Sunday, August 9th at 1:45 am, I woke up thinking I was wetting the bed. I turned to Brian and told him how embarrassed I was but I was wetting the bed, and I physically couldn't get to the bathroom. He told me not to be embarrassed; he said at 9 months pregnant these type of things probably happen all the time. Sounds ridiculous but it took us both a few minutes to piece together that maybe it was actually my water breaking.
I called my OB's emergency line. Brian began dialing my parents.
My doctor told me it sounded like my water had broken and to head to the hospital. Brian got a hold of my mom, and she drove right over to spend the night at our house with Hartley.
We arrived to the hospital probably a little before 3am, and they wheeled me up to Labor and Delivery.
They checked me out and confirmed that yes, my water had broken. I was 2 cm dialated and having irregular contractions. I was told I should try to lay back and get rest. Brian actually fell back asleep, and I laid there, too excited to sleep. After an exhausting pregnancy, I was finally going to meet my baby boy.
Nurses changed shift at 7 am, and the new nurse told me that my doctor would be there soon to check me out. Around 8 am, I saw my doctor, and I was dialated 4cm. She advised me not to wait too long for my epidural because things can progress very quickly with the 2nd baby. I told her I wanted to hold off longer.
My mom joined us in the delivery room a little bit later. She was crying when she came in; she said she was emotional about Patrick coming. We listened to a Garth Brooks song about meeting your mom for the first time, and we both bawled.
Around 10:30 am my contractions were about 5 minutes apart, and I was feeling them. I still didn't really want the epidural but I didn't want to miss the window. The nurse got the anesthiologist and by 11 am, I wasn't feeling much of anything.
Then my dad joined the delivery room party. I started feeling a little sick from the epidural, probably low blood sugar, so I got to enjoy my first cup of juice in 4 months.
Around noon, I learned my grandmother had passed away in her sleep early that morning. I was already emotional and this news really hit in such a weird way. I felt guilty that my mom was with me. I felt sad to hear of my grandma's passing but I was also overjoyed to be having my baby. I didn't really know quite what to feel or more importantly - what to say to my mom. I was also thinking there was some sort of meaning to all of this. She was likely taking her last breaths as Patrick had decided it was time to enter this world. My mom said to me that now my grandma could be here with us when he entered the world. And even now when I tear up about her passing, I remind myself she's a guardian angel to Patrick, and she's been watching him from up in heaven since the moment he was born.
We all cried. It was crying on and off throughout the day really.
We learned I was progressing slowly so Brian went home to take care of a few work emails and get a little nap. I knew I wanted to change Patrick's middle name to honor my grandma but I didn't want to have the conversation in front of my mom so I texted Brian while he was out. I told him I wanted to change Patrick's name to Patrick Frank. Brian loved the idea and thought it was a great way to honor Yaya. I love that Patrick will live with a piece of her always - even though he just missed meeting her.
My progress was very slow so they decided to start giving me pitocin.
Brian came back. They bumped up the pit about every 30 minutes.
We got this amazing nurse named Laura who began rotating me to get Patrick to descend more. This is pretty much Hartley's story - only with a functioning epidural. I felt lots of pressure but no real pain.
After a while I started to come a little unglued. Again, a long labor, and I saw no end in sight anytime soon. I began to cry - and one minor outburst about 2nd labor being fast being a "fucking lie".
But eventually I hit a point where I felt things happening. My dad sat next to me while I held the railing of the hospital bed and tried to breathe through things. My mom and Brian took turns getting me drinks and ice packs.
Then I finally hit a point around 6:15 when I told everyone I was ready to push. I was finally 10 cm, and it was go time.
I pushed for 45 minutes. I remember my mom crying, and saying, "oh my God, he's here!" That last push got him out so much faster than Hartley so I think we were all shocked at quick the very end was.
They put him on my chest, and I just cried uncontrollably.
After Hartley's labor, I was too exhausted to cry. This time, I couldn't stop crying. I actually remember someone in the delivery room asking my doctor why I was crying so much.
They let me hold Patrick for a few minutes before they took him away. I remember telling him how much I loved him and how perfect he was. Delivering at 7 pm was also far easier than 2 am so I didn't want to stop holding him.
But that was how our beautiful boy arrived.
7 lbs, 12 ounces, 20.5 inches long, 17 hours of labor, and named after one of the most amazing women this world has ever known, my grandmother, Carryl Page Frank.
I honestly look back at Hartley's birthday and remember the level of fear and agonizing pain. While it was worth it, that day still scares me. I will never forget that pain. But this experience was so much different - less painful for sure but far more emotional. Experiencing death and birth in the same day was very strange.
A few days before she died, my mom showed her pictures of Hartley pushing a baby stroller, and my grandma told her that Hartley was going to be a great big sister. I hope my grandma is enjoying watching it from up above.
I will add more pictures eventually, but here is the perfectly real (no make up or labor hair do) moment I met my so for the first time:
